Chapter4
1184 Words
By the time Isabella stepped outside the hospital, the rain had already swallowed the city whole.
Cold drops struck against the pavement endlessly, turning the streets glossy beneath the orange glow of streetlights. Cars moved slowly through the storm while distant thunder rolled somewhere above the dark Naples sky.
For a second, Isabella just stood there beneath the hospital entrance.
Numb.
People rushed around her holding umbrellas over their heads, coats pulled tightly against the weather, but she barely noticed any of them.
The rain smelled like wet concrete and smoke.
A sharp wind swept across the street, sending icy droplets against her bare legs beneath her dress. Instinctively, she wrapped her coat tighter around herself and stepped farther beneath the shade.
Still cold.
Still shaking.
Her phone remained clutched tightly in her hand.
Unknown number.
The same one from earlier.
The one she hadn’t opened because something inside her already feared the kind of truth waiting there.
Another gust of wind hit her.
This time she forced herself forward.
A taxi slowed near the curb and she lifted her hand weakly.
The driver barely waited for her to settle inside before pulling back onto the rain soaked road.
Warm air filled the car immediately, fogging the windows slightly.
“Address?” the old driver asked.
Isabella gave it quietly before leaning her head back against the seat.
Outside, Naples blurred past in streaks of gold and black beneath the rain.
Restaurants.
Couples beneath umbrellas.
Street vendors hurriedly packing up for the night.
Life moving normally while hers quietly collapsed.
Her phone screen lit up again in her hand.
Unknown Number.
Three minutes.
Audio file.
Her stomach tightened instantly.
For a moment, she just stared at it.
Then slowly
she pressed play.
Static crackled softly through the speaker first.
Then Iris’s voice came through.
“What if she finds out before I get back?”
Isabella froze.
The car suddenly felt too small.
Vincent answered calmly after a short pause.
“She won’t.”
That voice.
Cold.
Certain.
The same voice that used to make Isabella feel safe once upon a time.
Rain tapped steadily against the taxi windows while the recording continued.
“My father already suspects something,” Iris whispered anxiously. “You know how obsessed he is with image and reputation.”
“I’ll handle my father.”
“And Isabella?”
A small silence followed.
Long enough to hurt.
Then Vincent sighed softly.
“I can’t keep pretending forever.”
Something sharp twisted painfully inside Isabella’s chest.
Outside the car window, blurred headlights passed through the rain like ghosts.
The recording continued.
“She still thinks the fertility treatments failed naturally,” Iris murmured.
Vincent laughed quietly.
Not cruelly.
Worse.
Carelessly.
“As long as she believes she’s the problem, things stay easier.”
The words slammed into Isabella so hard her breathing stuttered.
The fertility treatments.
Her fingers tightened slowly around the phone.
Every hospital visit.
Every painful injection.
Every night she cried silently beside him after another failed attempt.
All those moments came rushing back violently now.
And Vincent had known.
Dear God.
“He’s your wife,” Iris said softly, though even she sounded uncertain.
“For now.”
The taxi passed beneath another streetlight, briefly illuminating Isabella’s pale face against the dark window.
Her lips trembled slightly.
“When the baby is born,” Vincent continued calmly, “I’ll divorce her.”
The world inside the car went completely silent after that.
Even the rain sounded distant suddenly.
Iris hesitated inside the recording.
“What about the company? Your father won’t agree to this scandal.”
“He doesn’t have a choice.” Vincent’s tone sharpened faintly. “I’m not risking my heir for a loveless marriage.”
Loveless.
The word echoed viciously inside Isabella’s chest.
Loveless.
Three years.
Three years of loyalty reduced to one sentence.
She pressed her hand quickly against her mouth as tears finally spilled down her face.
The driver glanced nervously at her through the mirror before looking away again.
On the recording, Iris spoke quietly.
“And once I come back?”
“You’ll never have to hide again.”
Something inside Isabella cracked completely after hearing that
Not dramatically.
Just quietly enough for her to feel herself breaking apart from the inside.
The recording ended.
Silence filled the taxi afterward except for the storm outside.
Isabella stared blankly at the dark screen in her hand.
Her reflection looked back at her faintly through the glass window.
Tired eyes.
Smudged mascara.
A woman slowly realizing her entire marriage had been built on lies.
Another tear slid down her cheek.
She wiped it away quickly, almost angrily.
Then suddenly
A sharp pain twisted low in her stomach.
“Ah ”
Her breath caught instantly.
The phone nearly slipped from her fingers.
The pain disappeared as quickly as it came, but panic rushed through her body immediately afterward.
Her hand moved instinctively toward her stomach.
The baby.
For a second, she was drowned in her own fears
Her breathing turned uneven while another softer ache spread through her lower abdomen.
“Miss?” the driver asked carefully. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.”
The lie came too quickly.
She leaned back slowly against the seat, fingers trembling lightly over her stomach beneath the coat.
Her doctor had warned her already.
Stress wasn’t good.
Especially not now.
But how was she supposed to stay calm after this?
The baby shifted faintly beneath her palm, and suddenly Isabella felt tears burning harder behind her eyes.
Because this child
this tiny life inside her
was the only thing in years that truly belonged to her.
Not Vincent.
Not her parents.
Not the Moreau family.
Hers.
Outside, thunder cracked across the sky while rainwater streamed endlessly down the taxi windows.
Isabella lowered her head quietly.
For years, she had begged to be loved correctly.
Begged silently.
Patiently.
Faithfully.
And somehow she still ended up alone in the backseat of a stranger’s car, listening to proof that the man she loved had already built another future without her in it.
The pain in her chest deepened
Now, sitting in the middle of the storm while her husband planned a future with her own sister
she finally understood something horrifying.
People only kept her around when she was useful.
The realization settled heavily inside her chest.
Cold.
Quiet.
Permanent.
The taxi finally slowed in front of the Moreau mansion gates.
Massive iron bars stood tall against the rain while lights glowed warmly from inside the estate.
Home.
At least, it used to feel like one.
The driver muttered something about the weather while Isabella reached shakily for her purse.
When she stepped out into the rain again, the cold hit harder this time.
Water soaked through her heels immediately as she stared at the enormous house before her.
Everything looked exactly the same.
Yet somehow nothing felt familiar anymore.
Because for the first time since marrying Vincent Moreau
Isabella no longer entered that house as a wife.
Only as a woman finally seeing the truth.
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